Different Worlds
by Notorious Introvert
Summary: "Why won't you just wake up?"


**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or characters.**

"Please, Francis... I'll never cook again. Just../please/. Come home."

"Daddy, where's Papa?" asked a small girl about waist high to the British man. She was dressed in a pink blouse and brief, tufty tutu that did nothing to cover her Pull-Up. Blonde hair, much too long, brushed along her shoulders and back each time she moved her head to watch the pacing Brit. "I... Papa's still sleeping, Marie. But, don't worry! He'll wake up soon! And he'll look exactly the same as before, but he's always going on about how that 'Beauty Sleep' makes a difference," Arthur prattled off to his adopted daughter, not allowing her a word into the discussion; though, it wasn't as though she had a single one to say. She went back to feeding her baby sister a bottle. She was, afterall, 'Papa's big helper'. But perhaps now she was Daddy's instead, because Papa was always sleeping?

"So, he's still not better, eh? That's a shame.. Michael's been getting so big. I don't want him to grow blank on his Pa-"

Arthur slammed the phone down, his trembling hand keeping a vice grip as though he feared Matthew would push through the line and appear, continuing to spout exactly what the British man didn't want to hear. "Bloody.. Who cares about Michael? Who cares about..your son. Francis' son..." His bottom lip held too stiff, so that it was difficult to speak. "It's Juliette, James, and Marie who need him, damn it."

'It's me who needs him.'

His other palm clutched Francis' journal tighter.

"You're so ruddy stupid, Francis. Did you truly believe that you looked fat this day? And thinner the next? That's not how it works, but a complete imbecile like you would likely think this way. And what's with assuming I didn't love you? You're never in the wrong, are you? I didn't want to kiss you because you reeked of garlic, not because I saw a chap in your lips! Vain pillock."

Francis said nothing, didn't twitch or even open his eyes to glare at Arthur. But Arthur could almost pretend his hand, so tightly held by his own, gave a squeeze back."

"...I'm so sorry, Francis. I just.. He was there. He was there, and you weren't. You never are anymore. I-i can't live this way! The children... I'm sorry, Francis. I can't."

"...I put my wedding band back on, love. I couldn't leave you.. When it came to drawing up the papers, I.. I couldn't do it. Just like how I can't pull your plug just yet."

"You're such a coward, Francis. Why won't you just get up already? Where is your reasoning? What are you waiting for?"

"I read your journal again. God, Francis, you're worst than a teenage girl on her monthly. All of these ridiculous love scenes that are more clich than your laugh. Why won't you just get up and act them out with me already?"

"Visiting you everyday is getting to be a real bother, git. Wake up."

"Marie keeps asking. She said you're pretty, 'the most pretty Papa ever'. So you can stop with the Beauty Sleep already."

"I hate you."

"I love you."

He walked directly towards the room, heels of his boots clacking against the unfriendly hospital floor. The noise roused a young boy, who awoke from a nap and starred, bleary-eyed, at the other visitor. "Hello, Mister France! You're back from your trip!"

Sheepishly rubbing the back of his head, Francis nodded. "Ouais. I did not intend to stay away so long, but the complications! 'Ow is 'e?" Sealand glanced over. "Oh, he's the same... This beeping does give me a headache, though! How do you do it without your head exploding?" With a laugh, the Frenchman relieved Peter of his post and sat right beside Arthur, on the bed. A hand sought to rid overgrown hair from the Brit's face. "'E is my friend, mon cher. No matter our 'istory."

"Damn it, Francis. You're so selfish!" Arthur rammed his fist against the wall. "Why can't you be here?! Get up! Get up, damn you! You always go on about me, but you're the one destroying our fami-"

"Ar..thur..?"

"...It's about time, you fucking peacock."

Francis leant down to peck Arthur's cheek. He could have thought that Arthur's hand, so tightly grasped in his own, gave a squeeze back.

"Papa!" Marie shrieked, running forward to hug her father around the waist. James and Juliette looked towards the noise with identical faces, and they were scooped into the Frenchman's arms near immediately. "My children! 'Ow big you all are!" Turning his head to face Arthur, the blond winked and blew a small kiss.

"'Ow I missed you~"

Francis sighed. "Oh, Arthur. 'Ow I miss you."

**CUT**

**Author's Note: Well, that happened. :l I intended for Arthur to truly be the one with a coma, but I suppose it could be interpreted as either way. Written for someone significant to myself.**


End file.
